


The Darkness That Knows You Well

by wonderofasunrise



Series: Love & Loss [13]
Category: ER (TV 1994)
Genre: Character Study, Cigarettes, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, No Dialogue, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28408224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderofasunrise/pseuds/wonderofasunrise
Summary: Abby Lockhart is well aware of the various risks posed by the deadly vice she indulges herself in, but it remains a habit she cannot break anyway.
Series: Love & Loss [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033827
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Darkness That Knows You Well

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first draft of this little character study of Abby long before I started actively writing for this fandom and it sat untouched for months on my Google Docs - until this series came to fruition, that is, and I'm so happy to be able to include this fic. I make it no secret who my favourite ER character is (hint: the crutch of justice™), but Abby was the first I ever wrote about properly - that's how fascinating I find her to be.
> 
> As always, the biggest thank you goes to Kam and Zoë for being such wonderful co-authors.

It was a habit she could not break, no matter how hard she tried.

Abby Lockhart did not exactly remember what had drawn her to smoking in the first place all those years ago; all that mattered to her was that the taste and scent of tobacco served as a very familiar and welcome escape from the madness that was her personal _and_ professional lives.

Of course, she was perfectly aware that she might end up with a pair of black lungs or spending her last years with a breathing aid due to the vice—probably better than most people, but it was a risk she was willing to take.

It could not be worse than what life has thrown at her so far, she thought as she closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to fully absorb the sensation her cigarette provided, and then exhaled the smoke.

Quite often she took for granted the solace smoking always gave her, but this time she swore the relief was powerful enough, albeit only momentarily. It was a strange kind of relief, one that most people would feel guilty of indulging themselves in, but for Abby it was what she deserved more than anything; a chance to temporarily forget about the mess that had been her marriage, Maggie, Eric, her (probably ill-fated at this point) attempt at becoming a doctor and thankless work at County…

In short, everything that made her life the hell it was.

Abby chuckled as she thought of smoking being the only vice she was able to hold on to now. For a long time alcohol had been her primary escape, and as self-destructive as it had been she had to admit it had provided her with the illusion that everything had been easy, while her life had always been anything but, and that she could do with _not_ thinking about her endless list of issues once in awhile.

It had finally taken its toll, however, and when she had been forced to give up drinking she had clung onto her cigarettes as tightly as possible, them being her primary and _only_ escape now, and while she had heard quite a fair bit of mutterings about her, of all people, having to know better they had never really bothered her. Certainly not enough to make her quit.

Naturally, that particular habit of hers prompted those close to her to raise their eyebrows on occasion, although she never seemed to care. Richard had had his share of sniggering remarks over the course of their marriage, though she had tried her best not to let it go under her skin. Luka had asked about it a couple of times, though he eventually had learned that there was no use in persisting. John...well, Carter being Carter, he always felt obliged to fix her as if she were a broken piece of porcelain that could not be trusted to stand up on its own, and while it drove her up the wall at times she made sure to never let him get into her head.

Part of her could not help but wonder whether her stubbornness, her insistence that she never needed help played a large part in why losses seemed to always follow her when it came to relationships—romantic or otherwise. No one around her ever knew what to do with her, and she never expected them to. After all, it was always easier to set up an impenetrable shield than to open up and risk changing a formula she had been so comfortable with, especially with those who would only end up pitying and patronizing her, eventually making her acute self-loathing even worse than it usually was.

Her preferred escape, on the other hand, would never cast her a judging look nor would it force her to leave her shell, and though it did not actually fix things at the very least it never came close to destroying them, or so she thought. While it still brought her darkness, at least it was a kind of darkness that knew her well.

She did not know when she would stop, or if she ever would, but one thing for sure she did not want to spend her what little free time she had by depriving herself of the only solace that never deserted her, the only indulgence that could distract her—ever so slightly—from the insanity that formed a huge chunk of her world.

Her cigarette getting too short by now, she let it slip from her lips before putting it out by stepping on it against the concrete surface she had been standing on for hours now, the Chicago skyline spread in full view before her.

She wasted no time in producing the day’s box from the pocket of her scrub pants, and for a second her eyes studied the white sticks of death it contained.

 _One more,_ she silently told herself while taking out another cigarette from the box, her free hand scrambling for her lighter. She knew very well one more was a lie, as it always had been, but she shrugged it off as she prepared for another smoke.

If it brought her just a few steps closer to death while at the same time keeping her from losing her marbles more often than she needed to, so be it.


End file.
